Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (11 page)

“An
admirable
ambition,
sister,
most
admirable.
So –
we
are
free
to
go,
leave
the
citadel
and
seek
out
our
families?”

“Of
course,
whenever
you
wish;”
she
paused,
then
continued,
“although
I
imagine
that
as
the
majlis
is
due
to
start
shortly,
you
would
wish
to
attend
it,
at
some
point,
and
have
a
voice
in
its
affairs
.
”
Her response was bland, but ended with the slightest emphasis.
“And,”
she
added,
her
words
casual,
her
gaze
anything
but,
“before
you
leave,
perhaps
we
may
discuss
how
any
in
the
family
may
aid
you
to
rebuild
your
lives
after
so
long
apart
from
us
all.”

Then,
with
blinding
clarity,
the
wily
old
sheikh
saw
exactly
what
Zahirah’s
intentions
were,
both
during
the
majlis
and
beyond.
His
subtle
mind
raced
as
he
realised
other
things
too,
all
of
which
told
him clearly
which
road
they
should
–
had
to
–
travel.
Whatever
amount
of
honey
coated
the
words
being
uttered
in
the
friendliest,
the
softest,
of
voices,
he
knew
with
crystal
clarity
that
there
would
be
no
release
for
any
of
the
four
from
their
imprisonment
–
except,
perhaps,
by
death
–
without
their
agreement
to
back
Talal.
It
was
equally
clear
that
a
price, and
probably
a
satisfyingly
high
one, would
be
paid
for
that
support.
Finally,
and,
in
a
curious
way,
the
deciding
factor
in
the
proud
old
sheikh’s
mind,
was
that
all
of
this
had
been
conveyed
in
the
most
subtle
and
face-saving
way
imaginable.

Knowing
all
this,
and
ignoring
the
puzzled
looks
of
his
slower
witted
companions,
he
returned
her
look
with
one
as
equally
insincere
as
he
responded.
“Indeed,
such
assistance
would
be
most
appreciated,
most
appreciated.
And,
you
are
correct,
of
course,
sister,
we
would
not
wish
to
avoid
doing
our
duty
by
the
family.
We
shall,
of
course,
attend
the
gathering,
and
give
our
views;
and,”
he
paused
and
coughed
delicately,
“we
would
of
course
be
more
than
willing
to
impart
any
views
that
yourself
or
the
Lady
Firyal
would
wish
the
family
to
hear.”

The
principals
on
both
sides
clearly
understanding
each
other,
Zahirah
continued,
as
Firyal’s
strength
started
to
fail
her,
and
outlined
their
thinking
–
and
their
offer
–
to
Abdul
and
the
others.

Chapter
Five

“Lady,
do
you
intend
to observe
the
majlis
?”
asked
Zahirah
with
genuine
concern
in
one
of
the
few
moments
they
were
briefly
alone.
Although
it
was
scarcely
dawn
of
the
day
of
the
scheduled
assembly,
the
sun
only
just
touching
the
waters
of
the
busy
harbour,
they
were
both
already
up
as
there
was
still
much
to
do;
almost
too
much.
She
knew
the
elderly
Sheikha
too
well
not
to
see
behind
the
stoical
mask
now
firmly
back
in
place,
right
into
the
heart
of
the
massive,
un-healable
anguish
that
the
increasingly
frail
princess
was
suffering
at
the
loss
of
her
favourite
son.

The
younger
woman
was
unsurprised,
however,
by
Firyal’s
answer.
“Yes,
I
must.
We
both
must
be
there
to
do
our
best
to
ensure
Fouad’s
decision
about
the
succession
is
endorsed.”

Zahirah
nodded.
Despite
their
devastation
at
the
loss
of
Fouad,
they
had
both
wanted
the
majlis
to
meet
even
sooner
than
it
was
now
scheduled:
some
three
days
after
Zahirah
and
Nasir’s
return.
They
knew
also,
however,
that
until
all
the
family
decision-makers
were
present,
it
was
unwise
to
hold
one.
Besides
Ali
and
Habib,
other
key
men
such
as
Muqrin
and
Mus’id
were
away
in
the
emirate’s
inland
oases
and
had
to
be
given
time
to
return.
Both
women
knew
that
they
could
have
rushed
through
Talal’s
succession,
made
it
a
de facto
ascension
of
power
by
virtue
of
their
forces
controlling
both
the
citadel
and
the
garrison’s
loyalty.
They
were
keenly
aware,
however,
that
in
the
absence
of
such
important
family
members,
his
taking
of
that
power
would
lack
some
of
the
legitimacy
they
needed
for
there
to
be
fewer
challenges
in
the
future.
That
there
would
be
some,
of
course,
regardless
of
how
his
succession
was
managed,
was
something
they
saw
as
inevitable.

They
had
all
used
the
time
wisely.
Nasir,
though
frequently
still
barely
conscious, had people
brought
to
him
in
his
sickroom, where
he’d
been
quietly
offering
whatever
inducements
were
needed
for
key
backers
to
move
behind
the
youthful
claimant.
The
boy’s
succession
was
far
from
assured,
despite
his
father’s
public
proclamation
before
he
left
on
his
ill-fated
mission
to
the
Kinzan
assembly
–
a
proclamation
that
had
been
endorsed
unanimously
at
the
time
by
the
family
majlis
.
The
need
for
someone
to
succeed
the
powerful
war leader
had
arisen
much
too
soon
after
that
proclamation,
however,
for
his
son’s
elevation
to
be
a
foregone
conclusion.
Even
more
in
play
than
any
previous
endorsement
was
the
brutal
fact
that
in
times
of
war
men
would
rather
be
lead
by
a
warrior
than
an
untried
boy.
It
was
a
mind-set
that
was
going
to
be
difficult
to
overcome.

The
inner
group
around
him
were
well
aware,
though,
that
they
had
major
advantages
in
addition
to
Fouad’s
publicly
proclaimed
wish
and
its
endorsement.
The
first
of
these
was
that
many
in
the
family
agreed
that
such
a
strong,
clear
line
of
succession
was
necessary
if
they
were
to
avoid
going
the
way
of
other
dynasties
in
Arabia
and
dissipating
their
strength
in
internal
blood-letting.
The
pro-Talal
faction
was
cynically
aware,
however,
that
that
agreement
in
principle,
far
from
precluded
those
same
princes
deciding
that
they
and
their
descendants
should
be
the
ones
to
create
that
strong
central
line.
The
second
powerful
advantage
was
that
which
Daoud
and
Mish’al
between
them
had
secured
–
the
citadel
itself.
Not
only
was
it
the
symbol
of
rule,
but
it
was
also
a
virtually
impregnable
bastion
against
any
who
would
dispute
Talal’s
right
to
that
rule.
That
it
also
held
both
the
treasury
and
the
main
armoury
were,
in
themselves,
also
not
insignificant
underpinnings
of
their
strength.

Isaac,
as
ever
indefatigable
when
the
interests
of
Faoud
or
his
line
were
concerned,
had
also
been
active
in
mustering
support,
but
he
had
to
do
it
quietly,
almost
anonymously.
For
although
the
majlis
would
be
attended
by
some
of
the
most
prominent
non-family
inhabitants
of
the
town,
it
would
be
only
the
family
itself
who
would
confirm
or
deny
the
succession
to
Talal.
Though
many
merchants
and
other
powerful
families
had
strong
links
with
one
or
more
of
the
reigning
house,
all
accepted
that,
in
theory
at
least,
only
the
family
should
choose
from
within
itself
who
became
their
head.
All
loyalty,
whether
it
was
from
the
town
or
the
deserts,
was
given
to
the
emir
from
the
family
of
the
ruling
house,
whoever
that
turned
out
to
be.
Indeed,
many
of
the
town’s
most
prominent
citizens
wished
fervently
that
they
wouldn’t
be
invited
to
attend
the
gathering.